


tied

by bunshima



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, unusual anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunshima/pseuds/bunshima
Summary: (a thing for a good friend :9c)





	tied

**Author's Note:**

> yeah ykno.... sometimes u just. u just gotta. ykno. 
> 
> i pitched this idea to my friend a few weeks ago but then didnt end up writing it bc i was just "nahhh" but then she came to me and asked me to write it for her. and well. i wrote it.
> 
> disclaimer: not thoroughly proofread, there is a lot to unpack here, lucilius is super cursed, sheath/retractable dicks included, everyone in estalucia is intersex basically

Something has been weighing Azazel down, keeping him from concentrating and even taking care of menial tasks. It's an itch beneath his skin, a dull thumping in his ears, then unbearable heat traveling down his spine at the sight of other angels, who would avoid him like the plague once he did as much as look at them. The only way of possibly getting a solution to his unfavorable situation is speaking to Lucilius, his maker and the head of the research team. It feels almost like a walk of shame to come crawling to him, especially after not always doing what he wants from him (and non-verbally telling him to go fuck himself on more than one occasion). But it is a necessary evil in this case.

His step echoes in the long corridor of the biggest patient complex on the archipelago, as the angel finds himself on his way to one of Lucilius’ examination rooms. Even between the dominating scent of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant, he can smell him. Before he knows it, his feet have carried him to the right door on their own. Without hesitation he knocks on the heavy wooden door and opens, not even waiting for the permission to do so. That horrible, horrible ache beneath his skin drives him forward, possibly even driving him into death. But at least them he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore– whatever ‘this’ is, in the first place.

Lucilius seems surprised but unbothered for the most part by the sudden surprise visit. He had been cleaning his equipment, the strong scent of disinfectant lingering.

“Ah, Azazel.”, the Astral says, “What a surprise. Is there something you need?” He speaks in a soft tone, the one he only uses when talking to Lucifer. It's a goddamn miracle that he still hasn't gotten into his bad side yet, apparently.

“There's something wrong with me.”, Azazel states without any further ado as he closes the door behind him, hastily pacing over to the examination table to take a seat.

“Yes, so I have heard.”, Lucilius replies while he walks to a tall cabinet and pulls it open, revealing countless bottles and boxes of medicine for various uses, “A colleague has told me about their observations– it's a typical issue you needn't be ashamed of, Azazel.” He selects two bottles of pills from the wide assortment and sets them down onto the counter next to his utensils after shutting the long drawer again. The Astral doesn't offer them yet, keeps his hand on them.

Azazel has no idea what he's speaking of, and he'd rather have him get to the point.

“Either way, these–” Both pill bottles are shaken, causing their contents to clatter against plastic “–Are hormone blockers.”

“Excuse me?”, Azazel sputters, voice cracking. Hormone blockers!? Is this some kind of joke?

“You've entered your first rut, Azazel.”, Lucilius explains as if it was just the most normal goddamn thing in the realm (which it likely is, considering the labeled medication, ready to use), “Primals are still beasts with carnal urges, no matter how divine they may seem. A shame, really, but some things cannot be helped.”

It doesn't take Azazel much consideration to jump from his seat; he doesn't even know what a rut is, exactly. Only that it has to do with sex– the act Lucilius has turned into a taboo amongst the rows of his creations. When he takes a step toward the Astral, already reaching for the pills that promise relief of his unfortunate problem, but Lucilius pushes both bottles behind his back.

“However–”, Lucilius begins, “– there is another way of dealing with a rut next to blockers.” He does not like that tone– it's laced with something Azazel can't place. The Astral willingly backs himself against the counter, the edge pressing into the small of his back. “The natural way.”

Azazel scoffs. He's not stupid, so he knows where this is going. “What worth does your law have if you cannot abide it yourself?”, he questions, with the hope of provoking him so that he throws him out, or better, puts him out of his misery once and for all. In fact, he'd really rather die than putting some unidentifiable meds into his system or accepting Lucilius’ indirect offer.

“An exception can't hurt once in a while.”, Lucilius coos so lovingly, causing Azazel's tail to whip from side to side in mild anticipation beneath his robe. “However, you do have a point, which is why I advise you to keep this… arrangement to yourself.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa– arrangement? He's moving fast. Azazel can't say he understands at first, but then suddenly, it comes to him: Lucilius is disgustingly vain. An opportunity like this is something he would never pass up. All Astrals are in love with themselves in one way or another, but Lucilius is the only one who would go as far as wanting a carbon copy of himself to– gah, just pondering on this brings back that seething warmth to his spine, lingering at the base of his tail.

“What do you say? I will not judge you based on your decision.”, Lucilius presses on, bony hands clasping together.

“Fine.”, Azazel huffs, “I shall refuse the medication this time.” Deep at his gut begins to burn impatience, feathers bristling noticeably. He has no idea on how to go about this at all but well, he has always trusted his instincts to lead him to do the right thing– with this case as big exception. This is a dumb idea. But that itching beneath his skin drives him wild.

Lucilius’ demeanor lights up visibly at Azazel's response and he fumbles to take off his robes, revealing the skin tight clothes beneath. “However, I have a request to make. In return that I offer you this opportunity to live out your urges.”, he says, struggling with pushing down his trousers, revealing his sheath; a simple slit. “Won't you be a good boy and get on your knees for me, Azazel?”

Without hesitation, he does as he's told, kneeling before the Astral all neat with his behind resting on his heels. He looks up, waiting obediently for guidance. Clearly, he's never done something like this before, barely even thought about it. And yet, Lucilius treats him as if he should know just what to do. He's nothing short of clueless. However, his instincts are quite lively as of now– he can feel his own core pulsing with want at his middle. In the end it doesn't matter that he doesn't know what he's doing or what will happen; he's too far gone to care.

“Lick it.”, he instructs firmly, a hand brushing Azazel's hair back in an almost tender manner.

Huh. Sounds easy enough. Leaning in, the angel opens his mouth and drags his broad tongue over the Astral's slit. A soft curse is muttered under hushed breaths. His coarse tongue grates against soft skin, but he doesn't seem to mind; it's quite the opposite, actually. He does it again, this time delving past plump folds with some pressure. Lucilius’ legs quiver ever subtly as he sighs loudly. A hand reaches down, spreading himself. Another broad lap follows, and this time Azazel can feel a small, yet thick lump beneath his tongue.

Out of curiosity, he decides to look up at Lucilius, watching his reaction with keen eyes when he licks it, curls the tip of his tongue around it. A soft, dragged out whine bubbles up in the Astral's throat, who does a good job at keeping it in, but thanks to sharpened senses, Azazel can still hear it loud and clear. The Astral's head rolls back when he gives another stroke, incoherent muttering falling from his mouth agape.

He's beginning to taste sweet, so incredibly sweet that it puts a lock on every coherent train of thought and fog builds in his head, which encourages him to build a consistent pace. The little nub becomes engorged beneath his tongue rather quickly– possibly after a long, long time without special attention like this– which makes it easier to find. He seems to especially like it there, so he focuses his attention on it, causes Lucilius to sob quietly in pleasure, thighs twitching more and falling victim to spasms with each firm lick.

The hand in his hair has started clawing at his scalp and pulling at silver strands, keeping his mouth close to where it's desperately needed, as it seems. Spit trickles down his chin. The honey-like taste that lingers on his tongue eventually drives him to press his mouth close, the long muscle dipping into Lucilius’ entrance as his nose is pressed flush against soft folds.

“O-oh, s-skies–”, the Astral moans while his second hand comes to claw into Azazel's hair like its counterpart, keeping his head in place while he grinds against his rough tongue in sheer desperation. His insides clench around it tight, clearly longing for something bigger. He wants to continue fucking him with his tongue, but Lucilius pushes his head away, before spreading himself anew, not-so-subtly showing Azazel that he needs some more attention elsewhere.

He's fine with that; his tongue was starting to get sore. Continuing where he left off, Azazel already earns himself soft sighs and hushed pleading. When he peeks up at Lucilius, his eyes had fluttered shut, a blissful expression stuck on his pale features. Occasionally, incoherent bits and pieces fall from parted lips. He grows more tense with each additional flick of Azazel's tongue. Perhaps he shouldn't have examined him so closely, because now, he can feel warmth build at his abdomen, only intensified by the fact that he has kept his thighs pressed together. The moment they part, instant relief washes over him and he can't keep himself from shuddering. One of his hands finds its way between his legs, past his robes, rubbing experimentally at the damp heat in his garments.

A gasp slips from his throat, which catches Lucilius' attention. Albeit obviously still lost in bliss, he manages to straighten himself after having slumped against the counter. Recklessly, Azazel finds himself abandoning his given task as he loses himself in the feeling of friction from his own fingers against his aching sheath. His head falls against the Astral's hip, his other arm curling around his thigh. He no longer has the capacity to think of possible consequences when this is the first time in about a week of his near torturous cycle that he feels relief.

"Oh, my–", Lucilius begins to jeer, "–look how depraved you are; touching yourself without my permission."

All he can do in response is look up at him and whimper loudly. Azazel can no longer form coherent words.

“Here, allow me to assist.”, he says with a smug look on his face.

His heel digs into the angel's abdomen, seemingly as gentle as can be, and Azazel can feel something press out of him. Mouth falls agape, soft moans heaving within his chest. It feels even better than touching himself. His curious gaze is cast downward, resting upon the thick, purple monster of a cock that slowly unsheathes itself, thanks to the pressure applied. It throbs with Azazel's rapid heartbeat, glistening with slick. Again, he whines at Lucilius all needy, his expression flushed in a vibrant purple.

“Good boy.”, the Astral hums as foot moves to angle his cock in different ways. There's fondness in his eyes, his bottom lip bitten in anticipation. It's not hard to tell that he's thinking of the many, many possible ways that cock will absolutely ruin him. “Get up.”, he orders, his voice thick and laced with lust.

That he does, gives the Astral some space as he rids himself of his robes with haste. Lucilius kicks off his shoes and trousers halfway pulled down, equally impatient. Without further ado, Lucilius bends over the counter, hips raised and shooting Azazel an intent look over his shoulder. Going after what his fogged up head tells him, his coarse tongue is dragged over the soft skin on the Astral's nape. His engorged cock twitches in the gap between the other's slim thighs. A deep rumbling wells up in his chest which Lucilius mimics with a pitiful coo, reaching back to ruffle through Azazel's hair. Claws settle at narrow hips and dig into pallid flesh. Sharp fangs grab hold of dampened skin, holding it tight in their grip, which causes the other to take a sharp inhale. His own hips set back before they stutter forward anew and the tip of his cock enters the Astral's cunt, the enticing warmth of it seemingly urging him to push forward more with twitching.

“Easy, easy–”, Lucilius chokes forth, struggling to keep himself upright on his tensed arms. He sounds breathless already. “Be gentle.”

The other only gets a grunt in response. Carefully, as told, he pushes in an inch, but stops promptly after a pained sound from Lucilius. The Astral sinks onto his elbows, legs trembling as he struggles to keep himself upright. Azazel doesn't follow, and instead pushes him down further with a palm pressed flat against the other's back. The usually so proud Astral lets him do as he pleases– in fact, he seems to enjoy himself already, judging by his ragged breathing and tense muscles. Once the pain seems to have subsided, he continues where he left off, slowly pushing inside further. By the time he's halfway in, he can hear Lucilius keen, cheek pressed against the cold counter. A hand has grabbed one of the pill bottles he had offered Azazel earlier, holding onto it tight.

Azazel decides that this shall be enough for now; with great care, he begins to move, warmth immediately rushes to the peaks of his body, dying them in a vibrant purple. Each hesitant thrust causes Lucilius to whimper, which drives him into bringing their hips flush together. A pathetic drawn out whine, only having Azazel pick up the pace with both hands clawing at the Astral's hip again. They're quite loud, but neither seem to really care whether they're caught or not. Wet squelching bounces off the walls, together with Lucilius’ breathless keening and incoherent pleads. His entire frame trembles more and more with every hard snap of Azazel's hips. Eventually the Astral breaks into loud moaning, his legs struggling to keep him up. He takes that as his cue to put more force into his thrusts, slamming against the other's back side without mercy. Unbeknownst to him, Lucilius’ mouth is opened in silent shout, only a few strangled moans making their way out of him, as his shaking seems to reach its peak. He clenches tightly around him, making it hard to move properly. In the end he finds himself stopping, pressing inside as far as their bodies let them.

“Did I allow you to stop?”, Lucilius speaks with incredible coherence (especially for his circumstances), albeit with a raw throat. “Keep going.”

And that he does. He keeps his rough and fast pace, the counter's contents clattering loudly and moving in their confines with his every move. Azazel can feel heat coiling at his middle. Drool dribbles down his chin as he's actually taking time to savor the feeling of it all– Lucilius is so wonderfully tight that it seems as though he might break on his cock any moment. The temptation to test him on that is present– and wins the upper hand. His thrusts grow even harder and the Astral cries out, hands balling into fists, but Azazel is too far gone to care. All he does care about is how Lucilius keeps tensing around him tight every time he brings their hips together, chasing a spark down his spine that settles right at the pit of his gut. Loud grunting forces its way out of Azazel's throat and he decides to look down upon the other's behind, glistening with slick and sweat alike. But he notices something else: something at the base of his cock had swollen up, round and throbbing with vigor. A tiny voice in the back of his head tells him to push it in slow, having Lucilius feel each inch individually.

His hands angle his hips as he needs them, and begins to slow his thrusts gradually. Both of them seem to welcome this change of pace, panting loudly as they try to catch their breath. Again, he pushes forth and this time his back begins to curve along with his tail. Pressure had built at his abdomen, coiling and twisting his gut, and quite frankly, it's driving him nuts even more.

Lucilius seems to get what he's trying to do and obediently raises his hips more, standing on his tiptoes with undoubtedly burning heels. He moves slow and careful, and by the time he reaches the thickest part of the bulb on his cock, Lucilius keens anew, this time high-pitched. Azazel can hear his teeth grit, but he finds himself unable to stop. Once their hips are flush together again, something forces him to lean forward, clinging to Lucilius and just about crushing him with his weight. He begins to shake near violently, holding onto the Astral as if his life depends on it. Soft moans trickle from parted lips as that coil at his stomach tightens. He can feel every little twitch of Lucilius’ cunt as he empties himself inside it, giving a few throaty moans while doing so. The Astral's voice cracks when he joins in with his own groaning.

They rest this way for a while. Azazel can feel his sanity slowly return to him. The realization of what has been done is none too kind to him and he just wants to leave now. However, there is a slight problem that he didn't consider.

He tries to pull out and only finds himself dragging Lucilius with him, who gives an obscenely loud moan at the sensation.

“I'm stuck.”, he states with a loud scoff and he tries again, but only gets the same result.

It takes the Astral a few moments to collect the bits and pieces of himself since Azazel has left him shattered. “You– you tied me.”, Lucilius begins to explain, clearly having difficulties with speaking properly. “A tie lasts–” Cue a loud sigh as he tries to move his hips against Azazel without him noticing. “A tie lasts about– f-forty to– to sixty minutes.” Fucking fantastic.

And the fact that Lucilius is trying to fuck himself on his still throbbing cock doesn't make this any better. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! (im so sorry)


End file.
